


Into the Miry Wilds For A Secret Love

by kestra_troi



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - No Werewolves, Angst with a Happy Ending, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Drabble, Internal Monologue, Internalized Homophobia, Jackson Never Left, Jackson is bad at feelings, Light Angst, M/M, Making Up, No Smut, Not Beta Read, Not Canon Compliant, One Shot, Past Allison Argent/Scott McCall, Past Lydia Martin/Jackson Whittemore, Past Relationship(s), Scackson Week, Secret Relationship, Swearing, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-11
Updated: 2017-11-11
Packaged: 2019-01-31 17:06:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12686445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kestra_troi/pseuds/kestra_troi
Summary: Scott and Jackson were involved in a secret relationship. Jackson was too scared to be out  and Scott was too frustrated to stay in. They broke up.This is their reconciliation.This is for Scackson Week 2017.





	Into the Miry Wilds For A Secret Love

**Author's Note:**

> The title is a paraphrase of Charlotte Bronte by way of Jane Eyre.
> 
> As of now this is a one shot. I do not have any plans to write more.
> 
> All writing or grammar mistakes are my own.

 

At 12:30 at night, as Scott bent over to grab the tub of recycling so he could put it out by the curb for tomorrow’s pick-up, wearing his ratty, lounging-around-the-house muscle tee and shorts he heard a car screeching down the street like a bat out of hell. Then, suddenly, a car swerved into his driveway. A fancy car. A Porsche. Jackson’s Porsche.

Even in the low light, Scott could make out that drab color and those familiar lines, since he’d been pushed up against the thing more than enough times. He straightened up, steeling himself for the inevitably ugly, painfully imminent confrontation. The car door flew open and Jackson stumbled out still dressed in the suit he wore to the school dance, but glaringly disheveled, looking worse for the wear. “Jackson, what’re you doing here?”

“Had to. Wanna talk to you.” Swaying a bit on his feet as if he’d just landed from ten days out a sea, Jackson staggered his way to the McCalls’ front door and incidentally, Scott. 

“Have you been drinking, Jax?” Scott rolled his eyes at his own dumb question and reached out to steady his unexpected visitor before Jackson could tumble into the empty flowerbeds his mother swore she’d get around to planting someday. “You know you shouldn’t drink and drive, Jackson. You could’ve been hurt. Or worse. And I do—”

“Jesus! I’m sorry, okay?!” Jackson drunkenly batted Scott’s hands off his shoulders. “I’m sorry for everything! I’m sorry I’m such a screw-up! I’m sorry I ruined everything!”

“Okay, Jax, okay, calm down,” Scott gently shushed. “You’re sorry. I get it. It’s alright. But uh, how much have you had to drink, tonight, dude?”

“Justa coupla shots in the car,” Jackson slurred. “Did you just call me dude?”

“Jackson, what are you doing here?” 

“You danced with Danny,” Jackson mumbled. 

“Yeah,” Scott hesitantly confirmed. “At the dance. It was like one time, just as friends. It didn’t mean anyth—”

“I know that,” Jackson snapped. He had to take a pause to swallow down the sudden rush of anger at the back of his throat that threatened to shoot out. He started over, “I know it wasn’t like that. I know it didn’t—Danny wouldn’t—He knows about—It’s just—it should’ve been us. You and me. Me, not Danny. Not Allison. She was a mistake. I shouldn’t’ve gotten involved with her.”

“I agree.”

“I—I’m—I’m sorry,” Jackson half-whispered, tears standing in his eyes, so close to falling over the edge, but stubbornly not. 

“I know, Jax. You told me,” Scott replied equally quietly. He crossed his arms defensively in front of his chest. “What you want, Jax? What do you want from me?”

“Do you—” Jackson audibly gulped. “Could you…forgive me?”

For a long moment Scott stood rooted to his front stoop, blinking, staring at his former…what? Fuck buddy? Lover? Secret boyfriend? But while they’d always been a secret, they’d never been boyfriends Jackson had been emphatically clear about that every step of the way. So where did that leave them now? Were they broken-up? Were they making-up? Could you do any of that without having been together, really together in the first place? 

He took a deep, grounding breath in and let it out slowly, and then over again, trying to ease the tension Jackson’s abrupt arrival had put in his stomach. It was so unfair of him to pop out of nowhere after weeks of avoiding each other and expect forgiveness for being an asshole, but hadn’t he done the same thing not too long ago? Back with Allison, when she had started dating Isaac? He’d turned into that kind of asshole too: possessive, demanding, rude, oblivious to anything but his own feelings, and lashing out because of it all. If nothing else, he understood. 

“Okay, Jax, yeah,” he sighed. “I forgive you, okay? Was that all you wanted? My forgiveness?”

Minutely, Jackson shook his head. His chin pulled back, his eyes lowered, shoulders hunched, and his lips turned down; he basically looked like he was about to vomit. 

“Are you okay, Jax?”

“I think—I mean—IthinkI’minlovewithyou,” he panted all in one breath. “I’m in love with you, Scott.”

Despite himself and the awkwardness of the whole evening, Scott actually smiled, bright and hopeful. “I love you too, Jackson.”

“Y-you do?” The surprise was painfully clear in his voice, the doubt and suspicions too. 

“Yeah, Jax, I love you. I mean that’s kinda why I wanted to date you. Publicly, ya know, for real. I fell in love with you and…I don’t know. I guess I still do. Love you, ya know? I love you and I forgive you. Okay, Jackson?”

“Would you…” 

Looking out over his front yard, purposely glancing away from his teary ex, Scott sighed. His heart fluttered fervently in his chest, while his brain exploded into a million reasons of nope. He ranged from anger, to confusion, to resignation, to excitement, to uncertainty, to far-flung optimism in a dizzy whirl of seconds. In the end, he shrugged. “I think I’d be willing to try.”

“Scott…” Jackson leaned in closer.

“But things would have to be different, Jackson,” Scott warned putting his hand on Jackson’s chest to keep him upright and off his lips.

“Of course,” he readily agreed.

“No more lashing out, no more bull crap, no more hiding,” Scott enumerated. “If we do this I don’t want to be your dirty secret or something. I want us to be boyfriends. Like real boyfriends. Out and everything. Facebook official, even. Maybe. Ya know, later on.”

“Fine. That’s fine.” Jackson licked his lips and hobbled closer. Scott’s arm relented. “No more secrets, I promise. No more sneaking around.”

“So…you’ll be okay with telling people about us?” Scott asked tentatively, testing the waters. Gradually, Jackson nodded. “You’d be okay with going out on dates? In public? Not just screwing around?”

“Yeah, Scott, I promise,” Jackson hurriedly affirmed. 

“Jackson…”

“I swear, Scott, babe, things will be different. I—I want those things too, I swear. I want those things with you, promise. And right now I really wanna kiss you, babe.”

Scott rolled his bottom lip between his teeth. “Okay, Jax, okay. We can give it a—”

Tipping forward, Jackson tripped into Scott, crashing their lips together in a clumsily sweet kiss, their first kiss in weeks. Scott wrapped his arms around Jackson’s middle, while Jackson timidly, but tenderly cupped his face. He deepened the kiss, sloppy and graceless, but unrelenting and passionate. The night air around them warmed and thinned under their hungry, yet cautiously relieved embrace.

Then, Jackson pressed his crotch into Scott’s hip. 

Scott immediately pulled back. “Not tonight, Jackson.”

“Why not?” The petulant hurt in his voice was even sharper than the tang of tequila on his breath. 

“You’ve been drinking, Jax, it wouldn’t be right,” he calmly explained.

“Even if I want to?” He sluggishly rolled his hips. “Even if I tell you to?”

“Yeah, Jax, even then,” Scott said decisively. Jackson jerked back a step, rebuffed. Scott caught him before he could tumble backwards and fall onto the concrete walk. “How about we get you inside, huh, Jax? Why don’t you come in?” 

“For sex?”

“No, Jax, but maybe we could go to my room and ya know cuddle for a bit?” Scott offered, full of subdued anticipation. Jackson didn’t seem convinced. “You could stay the night. If you want. My mom’s working the night shift.” 

“Okay.” Jackson shrugged sounding far less pleased with the idea of being in Scott’s bed without being in Scott’s pants too. 

“Okay,” Scott parroted, much more assured, and grinning like a dork. Lending a shoulder, he helped Jackson across the threshold and into the house, momentarily forgetting all about the recycling and the trash he still had to take out. “When was the last time you ate, Jax?”

“I don’t know,” Jackson grumbled unhelpfully. “I ate at lunch.” 

“Wow, okay, well uh, would you like a snack or something? I was just about to make myself a peanut butter and banana sandwich. Would you want one?”

“I don’t know. Sure.”

“Great. Come on to the kitchen and I’ll make them for us.” Scott led them down the little hall to the kitchen in the back of the house. “My mom made some coffee before she went to work. I mean, it’ll be pretty cold by now, but um, would you like some? I could heat it up.”

“Yeah, fine, whatever,” Jackson distractedly replied. “Oh, wait. Did I turn off my car?”

“Uh, no, but that’s okay,” Scott said. He hurriedly suggested, “But I’ll take care of it as soon as I make the sandwiches. I gotta take out the recycling and the trash anyways.”

“Let me grab my keys…” Jackson muttered, fumbling as he searched his pockets, for the keys he couldn’t possibly have. But out from his jacket pocket came a row of condoms. He winced at them. “Sorry. I was gonna—”

“Yeah, I got it,” Scott interjected.

“With Allison,” Jackson unnecessarily continued. “Not that she would’ve…I’m sorry, babe.”

“For what, Jax?” 

“That whole thing with her. The flirting and the dating. It didn’t mean anything. I just wanted to hurt you.”

“Yeah, I know, Jax,” Scott panted, finally slipping Jackson into a chair. “And I’m pretty sure she knew too. Allison’s pretty smart that way.”

“You dumped me,” Jackson whined, sounding almost confused about suddenly being seated again. “You dumped me. I’ve never been dumped before. I was pissed. I wanted you to hurt, but I—I didn’t mean it.”

“It—its done, Jax. In the past. We’re starting over, right?” Jackson nodded, staring at the table like a sulky child. He hid a sniffle behind clearing his throat. “You said something about food? And coffee?”

“Coming right up,” Scott cheerily proclaimed, glad to be past the oversharing on that particularly sore subject. “Should I heat up the coffee first?”

“I like it cold,” Jackson said.

“Okay, then.” Scott poured the coffee into a clean mug and served that before he made the two sandwiches. While Jackson silently ate his, Scott finished up his chores and then dealt with the Porsche idling catawampus in his driveway. He shut off the engine, took the keys, closed the door, and locked it up, then he rejoined Jackson in the kitchen and started eating his own sandwich. 

Inside, under the glow of the kitchen lights, Jackson looked a lot better, less red and puffy, and with something in his stomach besides alcohol he wasn’t as shaky or wobbly. “How’s the sandwich?”

“Fine.” Jackson murmured, already swallowing his last bite. They sat there quietly as Scott ate his much-deserved snack until Jackson polished off his coffee. “Is it okay if I take a shower?”

“Oh yeah, totally,” Scott replied with his mouth partially full of peanut butter and banana. He hastily gulped before continuing to talk. “You can use my shower. D’you remember where it is?”

“It’d be literally impossible to forget,” Jackson quipped under his breath. He got to his feet and stood straight, much more stable than earlier. 

“Can you make it up the stairs alright or—” 

“I’m not an idiot, McCall, I can manage some fucking stairs,” Jackson groused. 

“Alright.” Scott resumed eating. 

“Thanks for the sandwich,” Jackson said by way of an apology. “It was good.”

“You’re welcome, Jackson.”

“Do you—I mean—are there any of my clothes still here? That I could change into?”

“Uh, yeah. I think.” Scott licked some peanut butter from the corner of his lips. “I think you left some sweatpants behind after that time we, ya know, tried the shower thing—”

“Yeah, I remember,” Jackson unhappily confessed. “I had a bruise for over a week.”

“Right, uh, sorry, but when I’m done eating I’ll find them and leave them on the bathroom counter.”

“Thanks…for everything.” Jackson half turned, then stopped in his tracks. “Are you sure all you want to do tonight is cuddle? I’m good to go. We could fool around.” 

Scott chuckled. “Just cuddling.”

“Your loss.” 

“Oh, hey, before you go shower um, can I ask you something?” 

For just a second Jackson almost responded facetiously, but he bit down the instinct. “Go ahead.”

“So I need to text my mom. Let her know someone is gonna be staying the night,” Scott explained. “She doesn’t really care if I have company, she just likes to know so she isn’t surprised.” 

“Okay. That’s fine.” 

“And well, ya see, we planned on having breakfast together. There’s this great taco place by her work and they make amazing breakfast tacos and so she was gonna bring some over for us and uh well I was wondering if you’d ya know like to join us?” 

Jackson took a deep breath. Officially meeting the mother the morning after reconciling wasn’t exactly what he’d had in mind. It seemed too soon and oddly way too late at the same time. If she didn’t like him, what then? How much did she know about them? About how it all went down? Would she interrogate him? Would she hold a grudge? Scott had to get his forgiving nature from somebody right? And it probably wasn’t from the absent father. 

Throwing on his most self-assured smile, Jackson simply said, “Sure.”

“Great! I’ll text her while you’re in the shower. What would you want to eat?”

“Whatever.” Jackson replied with a shrug. “Just no bacon or onions.” 

Scott nodded and without another word Jackson spun around on his heels and made his way to the stairs not bothering to give any further instructions. 

He found his way easily. Scott’s bedroom and bath were without a doubt the two rooms he was most familiar with in the entire house, but this time he’d actually be staying the night, the whole night, with no sex to mitigate any weirdness.

He shuddered out of habit and scoffed at his own neuroticism. 

Sometimes emotions are far more dangerous than stairs could ever be. 


End file.
